The Quiet Boy
by Arsosah
Summary: Pony's in college, feeling lonely without his brothers. But things aren't great in Tulsa either, everyone struggles with their lives. Growing up is never easy - for anyone.
1. Chapter 1

**The Quiet Boy**

**1.**

He stops in front of the dark brown rectangle attached in the dirty yellow-white walls, staring at the number 47 in gold bold letters. He hesitates a moment before he reach out and touch the doorknob. This is it. A step over the treshold will start his new life. He can still choose not to do it, he thinks, but he knows that is not true. He needs this. He will take that step. He will leave his old life behind, head at something, he hope, better. Not that his life is bad. It's just not enough.

The backpack's straps digs into his shoulders, and he throws a quick glance down the corridor. It's empty. They're here early, not because they wanted to avoid the crowds, but because his brothers needs to drive home again soon to go to work. They're only here to drop him off, a concequense he got when he chose to sleep at home one night more. He's not sure if he regret it or not. If they had come here yesterday, his brothers could've been with him the whole day. But yesterday it seemed like he couldn't drop that last night in his own room, in his own bed. Though, the night turned to be a sleepless count of minutes, and in the early morning, when they took seat in the car, Pony wished he had more nights in Tulsa, sleep or no sleep. But now he's here, a place he once did longed for, but now, when it's _today_, wonder how he ever could feel that way.

There's still no sign of his brothers. He doesn't know why he walked so far ahead, leaving them behind, but he hear them talk in the stairway when he finally gets the key out of his pocket and opens the door. The room is small but cozy, two out of everything, beds, desks, closets. The walls has the same colors as the ones in the hallway, ugly and disturbing. A paper taped on the inside of the door tells about the rules for the dorm, laudry times in the basement and that the bathrooms, with toilets and showers, are down the hall. Ponyboy takes more steps inside, puts his backpack on the floor and plops down on the bed to the right. The matress is softer, but smaller, than the one he has at home. He looks up. Darry enters the room, tailed by a short haired Soda. Pony feels a sting in his stomach. It's not easy, this. He will not live that far away from Tulsa, but still, he will miss his brothers. Especially Soda. They have already missed more than a year together. Pony knows they're lucky to have him back. Not only alive, but the sparkle in his eyes and his smile are the same even after his experiences in 'nam.

Vietnam. The draft letter. That was the main reason Ponyboy chose this college. He knew that he wouldn't stand to stay in the house _if_- and the if was the really bad one, one he couldn't even imagine, but it remained in the back of his head the whole time Soda was gone -but _if_ never came. And now he's here anyway, at the University of Oklahoma City, moving away from Tulsa because of that damn war. It still splits up his family.

He hope he will manage.

Darry puts down the worn out bag on the desk located at the wall next to the door and tugs at the zipper.

"I can do that," Pony says, but Darry raise his eyebrows.

"I don't think so." He laughs for himself while he unpack. Pony's not that organized, and Darry knows the best places in the closet for his jeans and t-shirts and sweaters. He only wish he could have bought his brother some new clothes this special time in life, seeing the worn hand-me-downs from Soda and some even from himself, years back ago when he was in Pony's size. But that has almost never been possible, and isn't now either. Money will always be an issue. Or the lack of it. At least until Pony graduates, and then Darry thinks his brother will get a great job. Pony's going somewhere, they all know.

Soda stands in front of the small window, peering out. "I can see all the way to the parkin' lot," he grins. "Great view."

Pony grunts and throws the pillow at him.

"Here," Darry says and gives him a set of sheets instead. "Make the bed."

"Where's your roommate?" Soda asks, looking around like a boy could be hiding somewhere. But the only places for that would be under one of the beds or in the closets, and that, Pony thinks, would be weird. "I would like to meet him before we gotta go," Soda continues.

Still protective. Pony swallows. "It's too early, Soda. He ain't here yet."

His brother throws himself down next to him, flings an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm gonna miss you, kiddo."

Pony wants to cry, but he's not a baby anymore. So he just leans against the warm body beside him. "Me too. But I'm not that far away." He doesn't convince any of them. For all that matters, this building could lie on the other side of the world. That's what it feels like.

"I know." Soda sighs. "It's just that..." He doesn't continue. They never speaks about 'nam, but Pony knows that is what Soda's thinking of now. The missing days. His face is like an open book sometimes.

"It's okay," Pony says. "I'll come home on the weekends."

They all know that's not completely true. He will not come home every weekend. He will have schoolwork, his brothers will have work, and then there's the money. Even if the scholarship covers the most, bus tickets aren't involved. He will have it tight as it is. He's even thinking of getting a job to be able to eat decent food every day.

He reach for his backpack and opens it. It's filled with his personal stuff, his favorite books, pencils and a sketchbook, photos of his brothers, the gang and his parents. He rises and arranges the frames on the desk, feeling a knot in his stomach as the happy faces looks at him. All smiling except Dally. The blonde hood refused to smile, refused to put out the cigarette while they took the photo. Pony's glad for that. Dally will always be Dally. He touch the faces of Johnny and his parents, wondering if the latters can see him now. If they're proud of him. He's the first in the family that goes to college. It should be Darry, he suddenly thinks, and feels ashamed.

"Hey!" Soda shouts, and Pony turns around, blushing when he sees what Soda got in his hands. The little worn out teddy bear is shoved in his face by a grinning Soda. "What's this doin' in your bag, Pone?"

Pony takes it from him while making a face.

"I just..." This is awkward, but Soda takes his empty hand, squeezing it. His eyes are always so understanding.

"It's okay, Pone. Keep it."

"Um... thanks."

"Where did ya find it?" Soda stares at the brown fur, remembering how it comforted him as a kid. But the bear has been lost since he at eight years old decided he was too old for it.

"In a box in the basement." Pony's still red when he puts the toy in the bottom drawer at the desk. He would have laid it in the bed, under his pillow, but what seventeen year old sleeps with stuffed animals? Only when Soda was in the war. Only then. And only 'cause it was Soda's. This is college. He's supposed to be a grown-up in a few years, and he knows he would be teased if anyone caught him with the stupid bear. But anyway, he needs it. It holds Soda closer somehow.

Darry takes a glance at his wrist watch, sighing loudly. "We have to go." Houses doesn't roof themselves, trash needs to be picked up.

"No, Darry..." Soda protests, but then he catches Pony in a big hug. "Take care, honey. Call us tonight, alright?"

"Yeah, I will."

Darry takes a hug himself, and Ponyboy nearly won't let go. Darry is safety. He doesn't want to be alone, and for a moment, he doesn't even want to go to college.

"Eat and get A's, little buddy," Darry says. "Promise me."

"Promise."

The room is too quiet when they've left.

XXX

He could take a sightseeing tour around campus by himself, but instead, he stays in the room, flipping through _Gone with the wind_, ignoring the noises from the corridor. People talks and laughs, doors slams and he just waits for his own door to open up and reveal the one he'll be living with. He can't help but feel a bit nervous. What if they don't get along? He's not sure he can change room if that's the case.

It's the middle of the day, and his stomach protests at the lack of food, so he quietly leaves the room to find the cafeteria.

The hallway is crowded by now. Some people seems to know each other, others are obviously freshmans like himself. Many of the young boys carries bags or suitcases, looking for their rooms, and Ponyboy needs to mutter excuses while he tries to get past. He reach the stairs, chose them in front of the elevator, it's occupied anyway, and walks the four floors down. Outside the sky is blue and the sun warm, it's a beautiful august day, and he wish he was in Tulsa, eating Soda's hamburgers in the back yard.

He stuffed the map in his jeans pocket this morning, and now he holds it, trying to figure out which buildning that keeps his dorm and how to make it to the buildning marked with _Cafeteria_, when someone bump into him.

"Sorry," Pony says, looking down at dry grass.

"No, no, it was my fault," a boy says. He has brown hair and smiling eyes. "Freshman?" he adds when he sees the map.

"Yeah."

"Lookin' for your dorm?"

"Um, no. The cafeteria?"

The boy puts down one of his bags to point out the direction, and Pony thanks him.

"See ya around," the boy smiles and Ponyboy starts walking over the yard.

"Hey," the boy shuts, and Pony turns around. "Welcome to college!"

XXX

He feels alone, standing with his tray in an almost empty cafeteria, wondering what table to chose. There are so many. In High school, they never sat their foot in the cafeteria, always had lunch at the hood of a car, or inside it when it was bad weather, or at a DQ, but point is, they were always together. Here, he has nobody, and he finally choses a seat in the corner. The chicken soup don't taste like home, but he eats it anyway, remembering what he promised Darry. When he's done, he buys another Pepsi to go, one of his two addictions, and then goes outside, to sit in the grass and smoke. It's only five hours since they left, but it feels like days. He watch the people, the other students, wondering how it will be like to be here for years. This is his home now, he thinks, and Tulsa feels so far away.

The hallway is still crowded when he gets back, but he manage to avoid people and bags, only bumps into someone once and stumbles twice. He finds his own door wide open when he reach it. Hesitating in the doorway he face three other guys, two sitting on the bed that's not his, the third rummaging through a suitcase on the floor. He's blonde, and he looks up.

"Hey, you're my roommate?"

"Yeah," Pony says, shifting the bottle to his left hand to stick out his right. "I'm Ponyboy."

"Alex." He shakes Pony's hand, briefly. "Well, Alexander, but call me Alex. How 'bout yours?"

Pony's confused. "What?"

"Your real name."

He's used to this, but it's still awkward. "It's my real name," he says quietly. Alex raise his eyebrows, the two on the bed chuckles.

"Sorry," the blonde offers, and Pony shrugs. He sits down in his chair, taking a sip. He's waiting for Alex to introduce him to his friends, but he doesn't, and finally the boy closes his suitcase, standig up.

"C'mon," he says, makes a gesture with his head and the three of them leaves. Pony breathes out. It wasn't that bad, but it wasn't that good either.

XXX

He's lying on his bed, watching the clock. When it's past seven, his roommate's still not back, but Soda should be home from work at any minute. He waits a bit longer, not wanting to call an empty house, before he search for the phones. He finds them on the first floor, and sits down in an armchair to wait for his turn. He sticks a hand in his pocket, he didn't forgot the coins. When he finally gets a receiver, his heart thuds nervously. He's not gonna cry, he says to himself and dials.

"Pony?" Soda answers after the first signal.

"Yeah, it's me," he says, trying to sound happy, but he can't hide things from Soda.

"Aw, kiddo, it'll get better," his brother consoles him. "It's always hard to be in a new place."

Pony thinks Soda should know, and that his new place was worse than this. He was in a _war_ goddamnit. "I know," he mumbles. "It's okay here." They haven't napalm, at least, he thinks sarcastically.

They talk until Pony's money is runned out, and then he walks back to his dorm, slowly, to go to bed.

* * *

This is my new story, I hope you will like it. Since I've only been in USA for 2 days in my whole life, all I know about college is what I have seen in movies or read in books, here on fanfiction and on fictionpress. That means I don't know if it's like that in the reality or not. I will try to avoid things I don't have a clue about, other things I will try to write as realistic as possible even if I have to made them up. Of course I'll do as much research as I can. Anyway, if you see minor or major mistakes and wants to point them out, please do :) If I can change them later, I will.

I don't own The Outsiders, SE Hinton does.

English is not my native language, so this is Beta-readed by Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose.

Thank you for reading this, please review. If my summary/story has grammatical errors, please tell me so I can correct them. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Quiet Boy**

**2.**

An alarm clock start its day and Pony grumbles at the sudden sound, turns around in bed, somewhat still disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. He lies on his back for a moment, waiting for the sound to be turned off, but when nothing happens, he sits up, glancing over the floor to the other bed. He sees blonde hair on a pillow, but no movements. He sighs. His roommate came back late last night, not that he care, he once was used to share a room with a lively Sodapop, but the shrill signal makes his head ache.

"Hey?"

There's no answer, and Pony kicks his cover off, rise and sneaks barefoot over cold floorboards. The clock sits on the other boy's bedside table, but to turn it off without waking him up would be bad, wouldn't it? It must have been set at this time, only six am Pony discovers, for a reason. Classes won't start until nine the first day.

"... Alex?" Still no response, and Pony nudges him lightly. Not until the third time, with a harder shake on his shoulder, the other boy shoots up.

"Damnit!" he cries, and in attempt to turn the alarm off, the clock smashes against the floor. At least it silenced, Pony thinks with a brief smile. Alex looks at Pony with a frown. "Sorry 'bout that," he yawns, but he doesn't look like he means it. "'S just my friends tryin' to be funny." The voice is nearly unaudible this time, muffled into the pillow as the boy hides his face in it.

"It's okay," Pony reassures the already sleeping form, then walks back to his own bed. He didn't sleep anyway. He lies down, hands behind his neck, and stares at the ceiling. He knows that this part of the room will be etched in his memory by time - every little crack, spot or spiderweb thread, he will be staring at them in the evenings and the mornings, when the light is enough to reveal them. And in the sleepless moments during the nights, he will be staring at darkness, remember everything he can't see by then, paint them up in his memory to mock him. His brothers doesn't knows about it, and he won't tell them, but even with Soda back, he just can't sleep. The nightmares he had as a kid is gone, at least he hasn't had any since the first month after Soda got drafted, after that it was something that happened, and the bad dreams turned to nights with lack of sleep instead.

He doesn't know what he prefer. He never remembered the dreams even if he knew they were horrible, but this... he can't even escape to _not thinking_, and that is what he wish he could do. His damn thoughts sometimes feels too big for his head to keep, but he can't stop them.

He sighs again, starting to count down from one thousand, seeing if that will work, but it doesn't this time, either.

XXX

"Darry? Was it like this-" Soda makes small gestures with one hand, searching for a word he can't find, so he replace it with a grimace instead, "-when I was gone too?"

Darry eyes him, utters a simple "Yes." He's aware of what Soda means. The house feels empty, drained of life, cold and boring, not homey at all. Once they used to be five, then three, but three works, they made it work together. Two just doesn't. It's a wrong number. But now the two of them sits in the kitchen, trying to get some food down, and there's nothing they can do about it.

"Oh." Soda takes a bite of his tuna sandwish, chewing slowly. "Did it get better?" he hopes, eyes slightly widen.

Darry sips his coffee. "No. Not particularly." _Actually, it got worse each day of your absence. Like the bad odds intensified for each day you made through, still alive._

"Damn," Soda swears, resting his chin in his hand with a pouting expression.

"But it was worse then, Soda," Darry decides to say, putting his cup down on the table. Sometimes Soda scares him. It's like Vietnam didn't got him at all. It affected them all back home so much, when he was gone, and then the middle Curtis brother landed on American ground again and just... was his old self._ It doesn't seems right_, Darry thinks, feeling oddly unfair. He should be _happy _about it, that the war didn't changed Soda. But he knows what he's afraid of. "It's a big difference between war and school," he continues, trying to explain the seriousness in the matter. Hoping that Soda doesn't bury feelings inside, ready to explode someday.

Soda could make a joke of that, he thinks, how school would slowly kill him if he was forced to go back, but he doesn't say anything, sure of that Darry wouldn't appreciate it. Instead, he scratch his head, feeling the haircut he never seems to get used to, longing for his hair to grow back again. And this time, no one will be there with a shaver when it reaches an inch.

"Maybe."

"Sodapop, come on. It's not like Pony's in danger." Darry rise, leaves the dish on the table and takes his keys. "We know where he is. We can phone him. When you were over there..." Darry stops talking, clears his throat. He can't talk about it now, not before work. The time is just not enough. He doesn't even know what words to use. "So," he says instead, changing the subject. "Ready to go?"

XXX

"I'm Mr. Harris and this is not High School."

The class giggles, but the teacher in front of them frowns, it wasn't meant to be funny, and the silence falls over the room again. Pony sits in the back, fiddling with a pen.

"I will expect you to study hard, to not come in late, to return your assignments in time, to put up a high level to this class." Mr. Harris eyes meets random students, and Pony feels the gaze upon him. He sinks back in the chair, not liking to be examinated this way, feeling relieved when the man turns away again. "I will expect you to be adults."

"I will hand you a list of books, and you all should purchase them before next lecture tomorrow. That would be all for today." Mr. Harris gives a girl in the bottom corner a bunch of papers, and she takes one, handle the rest to the girl beside her. Pony's one of the last who gets them, and when he gives the now thinner bunch to the boy next to him, the boy flash a smile.

"That was my last class for the day. Your's too?"

"Yeah," Pony says, while he quickly skims the paper in his hand. He's got five of them, lists of books he must buy, books that will burn a big hole in his wallet. He must have made some sort of dissatisfied sound, because the boy turns to him when they walk through the door between the auditorium and the corridor.

"What's up?"

Pony wrinkles his nose. "Oh, nothin'... just..." he lets the words trail off, holding up the paper to do the explaination.

"Oh, the books," the boy says, taking up his speed. "Better hurry, then."

"Hurry?"

The boy grabs his arm. "Before someone else gets first. C'mon," he says. "Bring your lists."

Pony eyes him, but does as he says, and they walk through the corridor, out into the sunlight and leaves campus.

"Where're we goin'?" Pony finally asks, trying to sound casually. They're heading down a narrow street, on a small sidewalk, and Pony just follows the taller kid, sneaking glances backwards in an attempt to remember the way back. But it's hopeless, they have turned around too many corners, crossed too many streets, he has followed blindly and he doesn't even know the guy. _If he's a criminal, I'm in trouble_, he thinks, knowing he's ridiculous.

"Gettin' our books." The boy suddenly stops. "By the way, I'm Lee."

"Oh. Um... Ponyboy." He waits for the usual reaction, but gets none, Lee just smiles and starts walking again.

"My brother used to go to our college, so he told me about this place," Lee explains and stops outside a book store. "In here."

A little bell jingle as they open the door and steps inside. Half an hour later, they walk back to the dorm, used books in bags in hands. Pony feels relieved. He still needs to buy a few books splitting new, books he couldn't find in the little store, but this was a big help for his strained economy. Lee talks about his brother while walking, Pony just listens, missing his own.

XXX

"How's it goin'?" Steve asks, his upper body underneath the car he's working on. Soda sits on the floor beside his feet, hands him the tools when he reaches out a dirty hand to get them.

"With what?"

There's a clatter and a low curse. "Job. The kid. Stuff." Steve hesitates a moment, but doesn't continue.

Soda's not surprised Steve asks about Pony. Things have changed. He drags a leg up, folds his arms around it and rests his chin on the knee. "Pony's doin' fine, I think. Job, not so great. They still don't need me back here? How's business goin'?" He still keeps his hope up.

Steve rolls out and sits up. "Sorry, man," he says and shakes his head. "They got that other kid." He can't hide his venom. "The nephew."

"Still refuse to use his name?" Soda teases, letting his limb go down again to sit cross legged, and Steve snorts.

"What can I say? He's just a brat. Knows nothin' about nothin'." He gently shoves Soda's shoulder with a clenched fist. "Damn, I'll never get used to that hair of yours."

Soda sticks out his tongue at the change of subject, but Steve ignores it, suddenly gets serious. "I still can't believe you're back," he says low, reveals all his fears in the past in his voice.

"Hey," Soda says, trying to catch his gaze, but fails. "I promised you all before I left I would come back."

"I know. " Steve looks down at his oil stained hands. He knows what Soda said back then, but that was a promise that maybe wasn't his to keep. They heard about soldiers getting killed each day, and each day hoping it would be someone else's friend, someone else's brother, not Soda. "You've no idea of how it was, " Steve adds, taking a rag out of his pocket.

Soda admits that he doesn't, thinks silently that how horrible everything with Vietnam was, he'd rather go back there than be one of the ones left at home to worry. But he also hates the look everyone gets in their eyes when they touch the subject of war. He's afraid of dying, more now than he ever was in the jungle. _It would've broken them if I had died_, he thinks, suddenly scared of being so _needed_.

He throws a glance at the clock on the work bench and groans, but it's just an act. He feels shamefully relieved when he sees the numbers the finger's points at.

"I need to go. Lunch break's over."

His small truck is parked on the curb, and he eyes the DX sign as he pulls out onto the street, somewhat longing for his old job. The one he has now is just temporary, until the guy gets out of the hospital in about a week. Until then, Soda empties cans, picks up trash from streets, parks and playgrounds. But it could be worse. It could always be worse.

XXX

Alex and his friends are in the room when Pony gets back. One of them has borrowed his chair, so Pony plops down on his bed, picking out the books from the bag and eyes the lists. He has one more book he needs to buy today, the others can wait, but it's only noon so he has time to eat first. He's supposed to meet Lee in half an hour, actually.

"Where are you from?"

Pony looks up. The black haired kid on the other bed raise his eyebrows at him. "Oh. Um, Tulsa."

"So why did ya choose Oklahoma City?" Alex asks. "Ain't there a college in Tulsa?" He sits leaning against the wall beside his friend, arms crossed.

"Yeah." Pony arranges the books on the bedside table. "I don't know. I guess I needed a change," he says, not wanting to tell them why, and that he already regret coming down here. It's too personal, and he's not sure he like these people. "So, uh... you?"

"Lawton. And yeah, we have a college back there too, but I guess we're here for the same reason."

"Okay." There is an awkward silence after that. Pony tries to think about something to say. He could ask for their names, he realize, but before he has time to open his mouth, the one in the chair turns around, facing the pictures at the desk.

"Who are these people?"

Pony stiffens. "Family and friends," he replies shortly, rise and walks up to stand beside the chair. "Don't touch them," he says when the boy reach out a hand to one of the frames.

"Whoops," the boy grins, leaning back again. "Sensitive?"

"Hey, Will, knock it off," Alex says. Then he turns to Pony. Ponyboy can't tell if the smile in his face is genuine or not, but at least, it's there. "You wanna come with us and get some food?"

"Oh. Uh, sorry. I've got other plans."

"'S allright," Alex says. "Next time. See ya."

"Yeah, bye, " Pony replies, watching them leave. When the door's closed, he sits down in the chair, staring at his pictures, longing for a time that never will come back.

* * *

So... um... I love reviews...

:)


	3. Chapter 3

**The Quiet Boy**

**3.**

"Goddamnit!" Lee growls, while putting his forehead down to rest in his upturned algebra book. "And I thought math was hard in_ High school_." His whining makes Pony's eyes glance his way, and he's trying not to sigh while he puts his own book down for the, he thinks, fifth time. He decides silently that he really prefer studying alone, these distractions makes it much harder to finish the chapter. But he just can't sit here, trying to read, when Lee obviously needs help.

"You start it all wrong," Pony says. "You have to-" He leans forward, grabs Lee's shoulder to push him up again so he can read the problem, "-calculate that first," he points, "and then do like this..." He grabs a pen and lets it dance over the paper, showing the right equations and numbers. He finds it rather easy, even though math never has been his strong side.

"Pony," Lee says, "you're a fuckin' genius." He snatch the pen from Ponyboy's hand to scribble down his answer, then raises his arms up above his head, stretching his back. "All done!"

"Really?" Pony looks at his own pile of work sitting in front of him- it's only the third day and it feels like he's drowning - but Lee chuckles.

"No. Come on, I need a break."

"I can't."

Lee looks at him in disbelief, unaware of Darry's voice in Pony's head, telling him about doing homework first, always, no exceptions. "Just a coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee."

"You don't drink coffee," Lee repeats slowly, shaking his head, returning to his book. "I take that-" he wags with a hand,"-genius-thing back."

Pony gives him a weird look, but then continues to read where he was before he got interrupted. The two of them sits in the library, not the one located in one of the school buildings, but the bigger one in the city, just a few bus stations away from campus. It turned up to be a good choise, quiet and comfortable, almost empty of people this time of day. It's evening, near close up, and Pony suddenly feels tired. He has several days left to finish his work, no hurry, and he realize he doesn't need to listen to his brother's voice anymore. After all, he lives on his own now, should be fully capable of making his own decisions. Should just try to get used to it, right? So he shuts his book with a bang.

"I can go for a pepsi," he offers, and Lee grins.

"Then lets go."

XXX

Darry picks up the cereal box before he catch himself. Standing in the aisle staring at the food in his hand for a moment, he realize that grocery shopping has changed once more. He can buy orange juice again, one thing only Soda drinks, but these cereals is only chewed down by Pony. He puts the package back on the shelf, sighing, remembering all the juice they accidently bought but had to throw away when Soda was in 'nam. It's different this time- Pony'll be home at least twice a month he hopes, and be able to eat them, but Darry hesitates anyway. He doesn't want to see them each time he opens the cabin hatch in the weekdays, like a reminder of the absent brother. He still remember Pony, thirteen years old and scrawny, sitting at the table a week after their parents died. It was hard to get him to eat for a while, his _I'm not hungry_ ringing in their ears all day, until Darry found the box behind the flour, put a bowl in front of him and just used his voice to make him taste them. He still can't believe the cereals became Pony's favorites after that.

Soda rounds the corner, carrying the toothpaste they forgot to pick up when they walked by.

"What else?" He throws a glance at the same box Darry just returned. He bits his lip, but then can't hold it in anymore. "Can't he just change college?" he exclaims. "Move back?"

Darry force himself to chuckle, but it sounds false even in his own ears, and he knows Soda hears it too. "I doubt that, Soda. In any case, he needs to stand on his own legs. In a year I won't be his guardian anymore."

"Feels strange, right?" Soda picks up a bag of cookies and toss it to his older brother. "Are we pickin' him up at the bus station tonight? It's Friday."

"No, he-"

Soda suddeny scowls. "No? Why?"

"He called yesterd-"

"He did?"

"Soda, let me finish. He had to buy a lot of stuff for school, so he can't make it home this week."

"We can go and get him." Soda folds his arms, already knowing the answer when Darry shakes his head.

"We can't afford the gas, Soda. And your paycheck is not even close to what you earned when you were in the army." Soda had sent all his payments home to Darry, a monthly paycheck more valued than what he had earned at the DX, and for a while, Darry could even do some savings. But then, _as always_, Darry thinks bitterly, every time they _had_ money, they also had new, unexpected expenses, like when the laundry machine broke down, or the car needed to get new brakes, or when himself damaged his shoulder at work and had to stay home for two weeks.

"Gas's not expensive," Soda says, waking Darry from his thoughts. "It's like, what? Thirty cents a gallon?"

"Money's still tight. And you have to consider that Pony maybe wants to stay. He must've made friends by now." He hopes. Pony has always been a loner, more since Johnny and Dally died, but even worse when Soda got drafted. College will be good for him, Darry's sure. He won't force him to come home if he doesn't want to.

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts."

Soda rips down the cereal box from the shelf, throws it in the cart, unable to hide his anger.

"I can't believe this! You two had each other all the time I was gone. And then I could just be at home a month before he had to leave too. You never told me any of it, " he accuses. "I didn't know. I thought I would come home to my _family_!" Both his hands reach up, ready to drag his fingers through his hair in frustration, but he drops them again when he feels the stubble. Instead, he lets his arms hang limp by his sides, glaring.

Darry freeze for a moment, then push the shopping cart forward, letting the box remain in it. "He didn't wanted you to know." He doesn't miss the hurt look in Soda's eyes, and stops mid-steps. "Damn it, Soda. He was afraid. We all were. Why do you think he chose to go to school in Oklahoma City instead of Tulsa?"

Soda shrugs, still angry. "I don't know. Why?"

"Think!" But his brother's face is still blank, and Darry drags a hand over his mouth, hating that he needs to utter the word. "If you had-" he realize he can't say it, so he change the sentence ,"-hadn't come back."

Soda shifts uneasy, takes his gaze away from Darry's face, glancing at the floor. "But I did," he mumbles, feeling cold.

"Soda..."

"Stop it, Darry. I know. I know how it was, okay? I mean, I nearly d-" he stops when he sees Darry's suddenly pale face, aware of that he's saying. He never wrote to them how bad it was, only told about the small, unimportant things, like the too warm weather, his buddies, the damn mosquitoes, never about the gunshots and bombs and snipers. He never told any of it when he got home either, and during the weeks at home, he's become an expert of pretending everything's fine, and now he knows why. They can't handle it, not his brothers, not his friends, and he has nobody to talk to. He's sure they _know_, the news on TV has shown about the Vietnam War almost every day, before he went and after he got back, but it's a difference to hear about strangers on TV than hear words from a relatives mouth. So he snaps it shut.

"Soda," Darry repeats. "I didn't mean to-"

"Not now," Soda says. Slowly he takes up the box again, putting it back without looking at his older brother. "Let's... let's just finish shoppin' and go home. Okay?"

Darry says nothing, just starts walking again, heading for the milk. Soda follows, wishing he could talk to him. But he just can't.

XXX

He sticks another cigarette between his lips and lights it, hovering over papers and books and a full ashtray. It's Friday evening, his first weekend since getting here, and he rather would be on a bus than do schoolwork, but rather do schoolwork than go to that party downtown, so here he is, despite Lee's wishes. Five days and he's got one friend, but he doubts they will continue talking to each other for that long. Since their first day, they have eaten together, studied together, but Pony knows Lee has become friends with other students too. It's just _normal_ to try and get friends. So why doesn't he wants the same? Sometimes Pony regrets even starting to associate with the boy. He shouldn't had, it's just _stupid_. He doesn't need anyone.

His assignment for his english class should be easy enough, but his mind drifts to Tulsa, to Soda and Vietnam, to Johnny and Dally ... to his parents. He feels everybody's eyes upon him and he can't stand it. It feels like blasphemy when he turns the photos around, making them face the wall instead. His roommate is not here, and he probably won't come anytime soon, but Ponyboy swallows anyway, trying to force the tears down, and when he's not able to do it anymore, he takes a towel from the closet and the shampoo bottle from one of the drawers and heads to the showers. Behind a locked door he lets it go, pretending that the water from his eyes comes from above, trying to feel less embarassed.

He wonders when things will stop hurting, afraid that they never will.

XXX

"I can't tonight, Steve," Two-Bit says with a grin. "I've got a date."

"You've seen her every fuckin' weekend the whole summer, Two-Bit," Steve growls into the receiver. No one picks up at the Curtis's house, and he slams the phone down. He takes the beer Two-Bit offers. "Bring her or somethin'?"

"Nah, she wants to meet me at her mom's house tonight."

"Yeah? I thought you already have met the parents. Serious relationship and all," Steve mocks and sits down in the couch, leaning back. "Where the hell is Soda?"

"He's not with Pony?" Two-Bit finish his bottle and throws it in the can, lighting up a stick. "Kid's comin' home, ain't he?"

But Steve shakes his head. "Hell if I know. Maybe they're pickin' him up, but Soda hasn't mention it."

"I bet there's a lot of parties the first week at school, " Two-Bit says, proud of his conclusion. "I would've stayed." Then he turns his head around as the front door squeaks.

"Mom said not to smoke in the house!" His sister stands in the doorway, rusty hair in braides, wrinkling her nose. Then her expression changes to a shy smile. "Hi, Steve!"

Steve gives her a nod, taking a sip.

"Don't flirt with my friends, they're way too old for ya," Two-Bit says, pointing at her with two fingers, his cigarette clamped between, and she blushes and disappears. Steve snickers, getting a shove from Two-Bit.

"What?"

"Ain't she cute?" he teases. "Deeply in love with ya. Or Soda, can't really tell. Depends on whom of you that's here, I guess."

Steve rolls his eyes, growls. "She's twelve, Two-Bit. She's your damn _sister_." He rise. "Thanks for the beer." He leaves the unfinished bottle at the coffe table. Two-Bit follows Steve to the door.

"I know she's my sister, Stevieboy, but that's-" He's interrupted when the girl comes running from the kitchen to cling herself to his arm. One hand reaches up, trying to cover his mouth. "Hey, Julie, take it easy!" he muffles through her fingers.

"Shut up, _Keith_!" she snarls, still red. "Shut up!"

"Go to your room," he says, pushing her gentle, and she scuttles away, without another look at Steve's direction. The two friends still snickers when standing on the porch, Two-Bit leaning against the wall, while Steve sits himself down on the rail.

"You heard about Jimmy?" Two-Bit asks, suddenly serious.

Steve's expression gets stern. "Yeah, I heard."

"Soda?"

"Don't think so."

"You gonna tell him?"

Steve stares at his shoes. "Fuck, I don't know. He's... I don't know."

"Does he talk about it?"

"You know he doesn't." Steve jumps down, breaking the conversation. "Gotta go, Two-Bit. Sure you won't come to the drag?"

"You're on your own, Stevie."

XXX

When Alex gets back, he waves in front of him. "Damn, but you're a smoker. Can't even see a thing in here."

Pony sits in the bed, pencil and sketchbook in his hand, looking up. "Sorry," he says. He knows he finished almost a whole pack in a few hours. He also knows that he could afford the ticket home, easily, even more if he had stuck to his normal smoking habits. His reasons to stay anyway is the same that makes him so homesick, he knows if he went this week, he would've stayed at home, permanently. And he just can't do things like that. _I need this_, he repeats to himself. _I need to stay here._

Alex snorts.

"Like I care. You're the one ending up with cancer."He throws himself down at the foot side of Pony's bed, and Pony drags his feet closer to his body. "You know they'll kill ya, right?"

"Thought you didn't care."

"I don't." Alex studying him. "So what do you do? It's like... way past midnight."

"So?"

"You usually go to bed early." His tone is amused, almost rude. Pony ignores him, continues his sketch of Soda, with long hair, knowing how ridiculously sad it is to be forced to cut it off when you don't want to. It's just hair, it'll grow back.

XXX

"Two-Bit. Keith..." She fumbles for his hand and he lets her take it, still in shock, but he shouldn't be. He knows all about bees and flowers.

"I... I don't know, Kathy," he says, and that's the wrong answer. She drags her hand back, turns away from him, crossing her arms in front of her. Her blonde hair is dirty, cover her face as she leans forward.

"I'm sorry."

She's crying now and he feels like shit, but he can't do this. He just can't. So he rise, and leaves, and she doesn't call him back.

* * *

Thanks for reviews, all feedback is really appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**The Quiet Boy**

**4.**

"Pony!"

It's only a whisper, but he hears it and jerks, eyes flutters open. Mr. Harris's _Writing and rhetoric_-class is scheduled Monday morning for an hour and a half, and should be his favorite class, but Pony's lack of sleep must take him down sometimes. His nights are still a time of stirring and staring, worse than it was at home, and he avoids mirrors by now. He doesn't need to see the dark circles to know that he has them.

He hides a yawn with his hand, gives Lee a thankful nod, for waking him up _again_, then tries to cope the speech from his teacher, but it's useless. The words seems to have no meaning at all, and he swallows hard, wondering how he will manage this. If he can't fix his nightly problem, he will have problems at day as well. The paper in front of him is almost blank, no notes at all except his name in the upper corner, and a glance at the clock on the wall tells him that the lecture will be over in ten minutes. He groans silently when he realize he has dozed off the whole time. But it's only the second week, he has time to improve.

They are released, and Pony shoves his belongings down in his backpack, hurls it up on his shoulder and start walking.

"Hey, Pony! Wait up!"

Pony stops and turns.

"Where're you goin'?" Lee catch up with him.

"To my room."

"Oh, okay. I was thinkin'-"

"I need some sleep," Pony interrupts. Then repeats, before Lee has the time to reply, "_Really_ need some sleep."

"Figured," Lee says, and Pony's feet moves again, but his friend grabs his elbow.

"Hey, wait a minute. Here." He gives him a paper, and Pony stares at it. "It's notes from the lecture. Thought you might need them."

"Um... yeah. Thanks." _God, I'm tired._ "But don't you...?"

"Nah, it's okay," Lee says. "Copy them and just leave them back tomorrow. See ya!"

Lee walks away the other direction, and Pony heads on his own, down the stairs and out, sun hitting his eyes, and sneaks through the door to his dorm building. He takes the elevator this time, finds his room empty, _Thank you!_ and falls on his bed, shoes still on. A few minutes later, he's asleep.

XXX

Soda stands leaning against the brick wall in the sunlight, waiting for Steve to finish his shift. The nephew stands by the pumps, looking misplaced with his pimples and a _tie_, for godssake. Soda shakes his head, chuckles low for himself and breathes in the familiar smell of gasoline and oil - everything about this gas station brings back so many memories, and he wish he could create more of them, wish he could get his old job back. But the DX seems to be a lost case, the new kid won't disappear in the first place.

This morning Soda was told that the guy at his temporary work, Mike or Mitch, he can't remember, was healthy again and should come back tomorrow. Soda hates being unemployed again, it leaves too many hours to think. Besides, they still need his paycheck.

The shop door opens and reveals Steve, who walks past the nephew without looking at him at all. Soda push himself from the wall, stretching his lean body.

"Where's your car?" he asks when Steve approach him. He didn't saw it at the small parking lot in the back.

"At home."

"You _walked _here?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Hey, it ain't that far. The rusty ol' car didn't start this morning and I didn't have the time to fix it. Can't be late or the boss gets crazy, ya know." He throws a glare backwards. "Maybe he really is crazy, damn knows why he hired that one."

"He's his nephew."

"I don't give a damn, Soda. He could be a fuckin'-"

Soda takes his arm, interrupts him. "C'mon, lets go and see if we can do somethin' about that car of yours."

A cigarette pack exchanges between them and Steve lights a match. On the way to his house, he talks about all the mistakes the fucking kid did this day, and Soda listens, feeling somewhat sorry for the poor boy.

"So," Steve finally says, "you're off your work now or what?"

"Yeah, " Soda answers. "I've no idea what I'm goin' to do." He toss the cigarette butt on the ground and stomps at it, putting out the ember with his heel.

XXX

There's a loud bang on the door and Alex curse while sitting by his desk. The person on the other side doesn't barge in, letting him know that it's not one of his friends behind it, so he sighs, shaking his head.

"It's open!" he shouts, and a second later, Lee sticks in his head. "He's asleep," Alex continues, adressing the dark haired boy, pointing with his thumb at Pony's direction.

Ponyboy lies sprawled on top of his bed, and Lee crosses the floor and leans down to his ear. "Hey, Pony!"

The boy jerks, turns around and place an arm over his eyes. "Damn it, Lee," he growls between his teeth.

"Seems like we've done this before," Lee laughs. "Think I'm gonna make you pay me for bein' your personal wake-up-clock."

"You use to wake'em up?" Alex drops his pen, leaning backwards in his chair. Lee nudges Pony's shoulder.

"He fell asleep during class," he gossips, and Alex chuckles.

"What do ya want?" Pony mumbles, without looking up. "I'm tryin' to sleep here."

"I'm hungry," Lee explains. "Come on." He takes Pony's arm and drags him to his feet.

"Don't ya have other friends?" Pony tries to protest, but it's no use.

"No one that's hungry." Lee waves at Alex when they leave. Pony stumbles somewhat while he's being dragged along, but out in the warm weather Lee lets him go, so he drags his hand through his hair and fix his shirt. He feels better after his nap, but still unsure of this friendship. He realize he never expected it, his thoughts before college was going through it alone, and he was fine with it. Just go there, study, not thinking of anything but schoolwork.

They walk in silence over the grass, and Pony shoots glances at the other boy, not sure why Lee wants his company either. He had thought after the declining this weekend things would change, but apparently, they haven't. But he doesn't say anything, just follows.

Pony buys a hamburger while Lee chose the chili, and they sit down at a table by the window, their regular table in the corner occupied.

"So what do ya think?" Lee asks while putting his fork in his food. Pony chews his bite and swallows.

"'bout what?"

"College." Lee takes a sip of his Coke. "We've been here a week now," he informs unnecessarily.

"Yeah." Pony contemplates the question for a while, then shrugs. "It's okay, I guess," he lies.

It's not. He still hates it.

"It seems hard, doesn't it?" Lee says, unaware of Pony's mood. "All the classes and stuff. But I need at least get B's, I mean, my parents pay for this, so I don't wanna disappoint them, ya know."

"Yeah," Ponyboy says, but he doesn't know. He never came to that relationship with his parents, to the point in life were he even thought he could disappoint them in any way. He was too young when they passed. It's in moments like this he's aware of all time he never got with them, all the talks he never can experience. Words and advices he never will get from them. He can't even fail them. But of course, he can still disappoint Darry, he thinks, and for some reason, he smirks at this.

"How 'bout you?" Lee says after a while when Pony doesn't continue.

"Me?" Lee rolls his eyes, and Pony blushes slightly. Stupid question.

"It's no one else here, Pony. Your parents pay for it too?"

"No, I'm on scholarship." He could tell Lee about the car accident, he thinks, it's not that he can't talk about it, but the moment pass and he just doesn't.

"_God_," Lee complains. "You must be smart. I bet things are easy for you."

"They're not," Pony defends himself quietly. "I work hard, is all. And it's for track, too."

"Track?"

Pony nods, happy to change the subject. "I'm a runner. The season starts next week."

XXX

Darry throws the newspaper in his lap, and Soda takes his gaze from the TV, looking down. The paper rustles under his fingers when he lifts it up, shooting Darry a questioned look.

"Job ads, Soda."

"Oh. Right." He flips the pages half-heartedly, feeling like a burden. _It's only a couple of days, and Darry's already on my back,_ he thinks bitterly. He really wants a job, so that's not the case, he just can't explain the way he feels, even to himself. No, that's wrong. He knows what the problem is, he only wants his old job back, the old times back, when everything was... not easy, but _easier_, when he was still a kid and Darry was the one who had to carry it all. He knows it's unfair - Darry really deserves to get off the burden of having two brothers to take care of, to start his own life. Soda's nineteen, soon twenty, he shouldn't rely on his older brother anymore.

He finds the right pages and scans them, but most of the ads requires muscles like Darry's, or education, and he has none of it.

"Find anything?" Darry asks from the kitchen, and Soda shrugs even if his brother can't see it.

"Not really."

"There's nothing?"

"They're lookin' for a burger flipper down at the DQ on Sutton Ave," Soda sighs. "You think they dare to let me near a kitchen?"

Darry turns up in the doorway, drying a glass with a towel. "You could try," he suggest. "It's a job."

"Yeah." Soda throws the newspaper on the coffe table. "I guess."

XXX

It feels strange when he wakes up. He knows he's _home_, but not all part of him, and he hates the feeling. No one understands when he says it hurts either, and no one talks about it, and avoids looking at it, or rather, avoids looking at the nothingness. He hates that too.

He can count on one hand how many of his friends that has showed up to see him. But maybe that's good. He doesn't know if he want them to see him like this. And the pity, he disgust it.

"Jimmy?"

He groans at the voice coming from his doorway. "Fuck off!"

"That's not the way to treat your Ma." She crosses her arms, frowning at him, and he bends his neck upwards to stare at her. Her hair has turned completely gray by now, but he's sure it was brown when he left. She looks like his grandma. He puts an elbow down at the matress and rise himself to lean on it.

"Get out!" He points out at the hallway.

"Jim-"

"Get _out, _Ma!"

She curse at him, but thankfully, she leaves. He plops down again, closes his eyes, and the images rush - he sees the Vietcong that shot him, sees the enemy get shot in return by someone behind him. The someone who the second later leaned over him, pressing his hands to his stomach and leg, fuck, that hurt, and then the voice, _Shit, Jimmy!_ and it all went black.

Sometimes he wish he hadn't woken up again, but he did, and now he's home, and hates everything.

"What did ya say to Ma?"

_Damnit, can they never leave me alone?_

"Told her to leave." He decides to sit up, not wanting to be so vulnerable as he is on his back, so he does, and then he swings his leg over the bedside. The ragged carpet feels warm under his sole. "What are you doin' here?" He fumbles for his cigarettes, grips the pack from the bedside table, but the lighter is gone. He finds it hard to ignore the fact that Jeffrey looks everywhere but _there._

His brother takes a step over the treshold. "You need to suck it up."

Jimmy glares at him. "Easy for you to say." He drops the pack back on the small table and clenches his fists. He doesn't want to talk, but before he can stop himself, he falls into one thing on his mind. "I can't even _fight_ anymore."

Jeffrey turns his head, looks out through the window. "You're alive at least. Alan's not."

"Shut up."

"It's true." Jeffrey digs in his pocket, finds a lighter and throws it. Jimmy catch it with one hand and his brother smirks. "Come on. Let's go to Shepard's, you can tell us stories 'bout 'nam."

_Yeah, likely_, Jimmy thinks, staring at the lighter and the flame he holds alive with his thumb. "Another time, Jeffrey."

XXX

Duane glances at the familiar boy on the bar stool, sighing heavily for himself as he drops the washcloth in the sink to approach him.

"Go home." He puts his elbows on the counter in front of him.

"Don't wanna." The red head takes a last gulp, then glares down at the empty glass in his hand. The bar is not crowded this time of day, but the smoke lies thick in the air, an Elvis-song plays in the background. He push the glass at Duane's direction but the bartender smirks.

"I ain't gonna give you more beer on credit. You gotta pay me this time. You already owe me, buddy."

Two-Bit paste a dizzy look on him. "Three?"

"Five."

"Oh." Then, a mumbled,"Thanks, man."

Duane just stands there for a moment, but then he reach out a hand, puts it on Two-Bit's shoulder. "I'm gonna call Steve, all right?"

"Why?"

"You should go home," Duane repeats. "Go fix that thing that bothers you."

_Is it that obvious?_ Two-Bit hides his face in his arms, feeling the cold material from the counter under his cheek. "Don't think I can, Duane." _Damnit_. He rise up on the stool again, but Duane's gone, standing by the phone on the wall. Two-Bit rubs his chin. He needs more beer, but his wallet is as empty as his glass.

It's just a baby, he tries to convince himself. Just a baby.

* * *

Thank you for reading this! I hope I have managed to let our lovely gang stay In Character - but they are 3 years older than they are in the book, and with new experiences, so they might act a bit different, but naturally different I hope. Still don't own them, Hinton does.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Quiet Boy**

**5.**

Steve parks his car outside _The_ _Eastside Blast, _and they climb out and heads to the slightly opened door, a small wooden piece keeps it from being shut. Soda remembers this place - it opened half a year before he went, and they used to come down here, playing pool and poker or just sit and talk, the others drinking, and rare but occasionally get into fights. It's a great alternative to Buck's, a place Darry still tells them not to go to, even if the Social Services has stopped clinging on their backs by now. Darry doesn't say anything about Duane's place, though, maybe because he also drops by there now and then to get a beer with his friends.

Two-Bit sits in a booth when they walk in. Soda plops down beside him, Steve goes to the counter, nods to Duane and wait patiently while he serves a man his whiskey.

"He's drunk," Duane says when he's done, now standing in front of Steve, nodding at Two-Bit's direction. "Owes me more than a couple of beers, too." The expression on his face can't be misunderstood. Steve sighs heavily and fish up his wallet, placing bills in Duane's outstretched hand until he gets a smile and knows it's enough.

"I can't believe you're makin' me pay for him, " Steve complains as usual, and shoves his wallet back in his jeans pocket, while the bartender chuckles and stuffs the money away.

"He's got a job?" he jokes, raising an eyebrow.

"Two-Bit?" Steve smirks ironically. "Ya think?"

"No. That's the second reason why I called."

"And the first is that you fuckin' care so much?"

"That's right."Duane put up a glass on the counter top. "Want anythin'?"

"We ain't stayin'. Soda and I are just here to pick'em up."

Duane throws a glance at the two boys at the table. "So Soda's back? When?"

"He came home a month ago."

"That's good. Too many boys doesn't." Duane sticks a cigarette between his lips. "All limbs in place?"

"Yeah." Steve grunts at the theme, he hates talking or thinking about the damn war, and turns half away, facing his friends. Soda looks sad, Two-Bit devastated, so Steve frowns, wondering what's up. "Gotta go," he tells Duane hastily. "See ya."

"... an' we were ca- careful," he hears Two-Bit slur as he approach.

"It can happen anyway," Soda says to him, patting his back. "It ain't... it ain't the whole world, Two-Bit."

"Yeah?" The sideburned boy scowl. "But how the hell should I know if it's mine?" he says, accidently ripping up Soda's old wound, but he's too delirious to notice. Soda leans a bit back, hurt, letting his hand fall and then raises his gaze to meet Steve's.

"Kathy's pregnant," he says stiffly, shifting slightly in his seat. "Two-Bit doesn't take the news very well."

Steve sighs and sits down opposite them. "The hell, Two-Bit!" His words makes their friend lean forward, hiding his face in his palms.

"I've become like my fuckin' pa," he murmurs. "I just... I just can't walk away from this, right?" No one answers, and for a moment, they're letting the silence speak their opinion. Then Steve rise.

"C'mon. Let's get you outta here," he tells Two-Bit, and they takes him under his arms, somehow succeeds to manouver him out to the car.

XXX

After his Elementary algebra-class, Pony meets up with Lee by the football field, and they sit down on the benches, taking up books from their backpacks.

"You fell asleep again?" Lee mocks, sounding a bit concerned at the same time.

Ponyboy makes a face. "No."

"Good. I ain't in that class, so I can't wake you. Besides, I take Pre-algebra, not that hard stuff," he points out.

"I know." Pony doesn't need to be reminded about his faults, so he rummages through his backpack for a pen, trying to look busy.

"So," Lee says a bit too happy, "we're supposed to meet with some friends tonight."

Pony's head flies up. "We?"

"Yes, _we_."

Pony sits still for a moment, then flips through his book to the right page and starts calculating. "I've got a lot of work to do," he says as casually as he can. He doesn't look up, so he miss the way Lee shakes his head in despond. Other than Lee, Pony only talks to Darry and Soda on the phone, and Alex when he's forced to, and he thinks that's enough. He can't really say when he started to avoid people - if it was right after the deaths of Johnny and Dally, when his other friends outside the gang just turned their back on him, or if it maybe wasn't until Soda got drafted. The memory of that day still hurts - but it was that day that really taught him that people _leaves_, and you can do nothing about it. It took him sixteen years to get that.

But he's not better. He left too. He hurt people too. Soda's eyes after he had been home a week and Pony had to tell him about his college application, he's sure he doesn't want to experience that look again. _If you don't have any relationships, nothin' can destroy them, right? _ He push a redbrown hairlock out from his eyes and tuck it behind his ear, working in silence, hoping he somehow will escape Lee's plans.

An hour later, the sun disappears behind a cloud, and a wind's blowing up, almost takes their worksheets with it, and they pack up to go home.

"Moviehouse," Lee says when they stand up. "I'll get you at seven."

"I told you," Pony answers, avoiding him. "I must work on my assignment for Mr. Harris."

"You forget that I'm in that class too," Lee informs. "And I just happen to know that it's two weeks left to dead line."

Pony glares at him. "Math?" he tries, but Lee shakes his head.

"You're done with it." He points at Pony's backpack, and Pony groans.

"You won't give up?"

"Nope."

"_Fine_." Pony sighs, wanting to kick something, throw a tantrum like a little kid, because he has agreed and can't take it back. "Seven, then."

XXX

He hates watching movies with other people, and the movie one of the girls got to choose is boring. Pony taps with his fingers on his bouncing knee, wishing the time would go faster, wishing he didn't feel so uncomfortable. Half way through _The April Fools _though, he can't stand it anymore, so he excuse himself and heads out, glad to sit in the chair closest to the stairs. He really needs to get some air. It's a bit chilly outside, but refreshing. He sits on the curb and smokes, wondering what his brothers are up to this night. The payphone in the corner is not occupied, but he has no money, and besides, if he calls them now, he might start bawling. And he's done with that sort of things, he tries to convince himself.

After ten minutes, he knows he probably should go inside again, but he just can't. Instead, he goes for a walk, looking in shop windows and at people, feeling dull and lonely. He rounds a corner and finds the street somewhat crowded, and turns around to head at the other direction, not wanting to push his way through, when someone grabs his arm. He looks up, and the girl smiles, pressing something in his hand.

"They kill children," she says, but the words doesn't match the twist on her lips. "They're _murderers_!"

He's confused. "What?" he says, and she points at his hand, so he turns his gaze down again, to examinate it. It's a paper, yellow with bold letters and a picture of a wounded kid. She gave him a flyer, a protest against the Vietnam war, he realize.

"Everyone that's over there," she says and whirls away looking for another person to bother. Pony stands on his spot, reading the paper in his hand, feeling nauseaus, thinking of Soda and the day he returned home. He smiled at them when they picked him up at the airport. He laughed. He was _Soda_. Pony closes his eyes. All the time Soda was gone, all he could think of was Soda not dying- not what his brother was forced to do._ He had to kill people. And that's not Soda. He's too good to be a soldier, too happy. Too caring._

Someone push him accidently, and Pony wakes up, crumples the paper and throws it on the street. Then he run. All the time he could've talked to him, and he didn't. Soda had always been so understanding when they grew up, and then Pony couldn't see through the facade he put up to them at home, afterwards.

Pony wonders when he became so selfish, why he thought Soda going to war only effected himself. And he thinks of Windrixville and the kids Johnny gave his life for, wondering how many kids Soda had to kill to save his own. And Pony hates that he thinks of how different it had been if the kids had died instead of Johnny, almost wishing it had been that way, thinks that he's _happy_ some other kids died in a country far away and not his brother.

XXX

Two-Bit discovers he lies in the couch at Curtis's house, with a quilt over him, and he sits up just to grunt when the headache strikes. He's used to drink, just not that much. Someone hands him a glass of water, and he takes it and gulps it down before he look up. He had thought it was Soda, but it's not. Darry sits down on the coffee table.

"Soda told me," he says. When Two-Bit doesn't answer, he adds, "You're a good guy. You're goin' to do the right thing."

"Yeah?" Two-Bit says, not so sure of it. Truth is, this scares the wits out of him. And then he spills. "How am I supposed to take care of a kid, Darry? I don't even have a job."

Darry's always practical. "You can get one."

"You mean ruin my reputation?" It's a half-hearted joke, and Two-Bit puts the glass down, rubbing his temples. "I suppose... I suppose I know kids. I mean, I've taken care of Pony, haven't I? A lots of times." He grimace when he remembers all the fails he's done, like not telling the younger boy's secret before a rumble, wondering what kind of dad he will be if he can't even keep a fourteen year old safe.

"You have," Darry agrees dryly, "but don't you think it's some difference between Pony and a baby?"

"Hey," Two-Bit protests, index finger pointed up in the air. "He was still in diapers when I met him the first time."

"Really? I thought he was seven then."

"Hm," Two-Bit says, thinking frantically. "He _might_ have been," he admits. Darry sighs.

"Two-Bit, this ain't just about you. What about Kathy?"

He doesn't want to think about her, the girl he met at fifteen, the one he always seems to go back to, who always takes him back after stupid mistakes. He can proudly tell that he has never cheated on her, always has make sure to break up before exploring other female bodies, but he wonders if this was the most stupid thing he could do. Walk away. Maybe she won't forgive him this time.

"I'm too young for this crap," he says mostly to himself than to Darry. A sudden wrench on his shoulder makes him jump, placing shocked eyes on his friend and a hand on the hurting spot. "Did'ya just _hit me_, Darry?"

"I did," Darry growls. "Damn it, Two-Bit you're Twenty-one." He stands up, wanting to shake his friend. "You're older than I was when my parents died and I had to take care of Soda and Pony. But I did, and do you know why?" He waits for a sign, and even if he gets a nod, he continues. "Cause we were family. We _are_ family, and families stick together, Two-Bit." He breathes hard, like he's been running, and then he sits down, on the couch this time, studying the ashamed face of his younger friend. "You know what?" he says, kinder this time. Two-Bit doesn't answer, and a silent moment pass before Darry opens his mouth again, and when he does, it comes out quietly. "I was born in january. My parents got married in june the year before. You do the math."

It takes some time, but then Two-Bit gets it. "Oh," he says, thinking that Darry has all the reasons to be mad at him for his stupid behaviour.

XXX

"Where the hell did you go?" Lee demands to know the next day. He's blocking the sun, and Pony looks up from his book to meet his angry face. "You just abandoned us. She was really upset, ya know."

Pony thinks of the girl on the street, but Lee doesn't know about that, so he can't mean her. "Who?"

"Who? Damn, Pony, don't be so fuckin' oblivious. Your date."

"My _what_?" His stomach knots. "I didn't have a date!"

"In case you didn't notice, we were three guys and three girls, Pony," Lee scowl at him. "I'm pretty sure they saw it that way."

"But_ I_ didn't!"

"Maybe you should. At least apologize or somethin' for standin' her up."

Pony rises from his spot in the grass, angry too. "You said _friends,_ Lee. God, I shouldn't have gone along in the first place." He starts walking away, but Lee takes a step and stands in front of him. The area is not crowded, but other students sits around the sheltered place between the buildings at campus, and Pony won't make a scene, so he stops and glares instead, arms crossed.

"What's your problem, man?" Lee spits.

"I don't have a problem, but maybe you do," Pony says. "Next time, don't ask me to follow with you, okay? 'Cause I'm not interested." And then he suddenly doesn't care if anyone is watching anymore, he just wants to go, so he shoots out a hand, push Lee at his shoulder so he stumbles backwards, and walks away.

"I won't!" Lee shouts after him, but Pony doesn't reply.

* * *

Thanks again for reading this, and for the reviews :)


	6. Chapter 6

**The Quiet Boy**

**6.**

She hasn't heard a word from him since she told him, since he walked out without another word than _sorry_, and sometimes she hates him for that. But she can't hate him. She still likes him, maybe even love him, and that's strange. He's not a gentleman, and she's not one of those girls either, that wants a guy like that, but maybe she could do better. If life had treaten her differently, she knows she _had _done better. He's nice and sweet and funny, but he always leaves and later comes back, not even crawling, he knows too well she always takes him back. She does, even if she never can tell where she has him, what he wants for his future. But now she's stuck, _her_ future already pointed out before her, and it's too late to regret anything. She can still wish, though, and right now she wish she was a kid again, with the problems that stressed her then, now ridiculously unimportant, considering.

It's a knock on the door, and she knows who it is, even if she still hopes it will be Two-Bit when she grabs the door knob. It's not, of course. Her smile is weak, and she reach out, to take Marie's hand and drag her inside. She called her this morning and asked her to come, she need someone to talk to, and today is as great as any other day. So they goes to her room and she close the door, even if they're alone in the house, before she tells her.

"I really can't believe it," is Marie's reaction when Kathy's done. She sits on the chair beside the bed where Kathy sits cross-legged, eyes glowing. "It's just like Sandy!"

Kathy, wondering if her friend finds this amusing or something, with that look in her eyes, is suddenly offended. She scowl at her, folding her arms protectively in front of her.

"It's not! This is different. It's _not_ like Sandy." She sniffs one last time, quickly decides she won't cry anymore, she must be done with it by now, and slowly accept what has happened. "She was only sixteen. I'm... I'm an adult." Like that would do any matter, she's still knocked up, unmarried, like some stupid teenager. Marie twirls a brown lock around her finger, looking awfully snobbish, and Kathy suddenly regrets opening her mouth. "You can't tell anyone," she demands, determined. "You're the only one that knows. You and Two-Bit."

Marie snorts. "You told him?"

"Of course I did," she snaps. "He's the father." Kathy speaks the sentence with emphasis on the last word. He's the only one she has been with, she's not dirty or anything. They just made a mistake the last time. It could happen to anyone. Even Marie.

"If you wanted it a secret, you shouldn't have," Marie says. "I bet it will be over the whole town in a minute." It's almost like she wish for it, Kathy thinks while she rummage through her bag. She finds what she seeks for and snaps with the lighter, making ember glow at the end of a cigarette when she inhales. She leans over her bed to open up the window, letting the smoke out. Her parents doesn't know she's a smoker, and she wants to keep it that way.

"He has known for a week," she informs her friend.

"And?"

"And no one knows, Marie. No one stares at me. Besides, he's not that kinda person, he wouldn't do that."

"It's only a matter of time." Marie hates being wrong. "He's just like the rest of them," she adds, rolling her eyes, ignoring Kathy's glare.

"He's not!"

Marie giggles at that, shaking her head. Kathy smacks her arm, and Marie stops, grimacing.

"You'll marry him?"

_God._ "Yeah, of course I would. If he'd ask me." _But I guess he won't._

"You think he will do?"

Kathy says nothing, and Marie smiles, satisfied of finding her statement proved. Kathy trash her cigarette, not even half smoked.

XXX

Soda picks up the phone after the tenth, or so he thinks, signal, half awake in boxers. He throws a glance at the clock, groans when he sees it's eleven am, relieved that Darry went to work early and doesn't know how long he slept in today.

"'lo?" He tries to hide a yawn, if it's an important call. First he didn't think he would answer at all, but remembering his job applications, he rushed up, hoping it wouldn't be too late.

"_Soda?_"

He straightens up at the voice in the other end, suddenly more alert. "Ponyboy?"

His brother has been bad at calling them, only twice since he left, so Soda grips the receiver tighter, presses it onto his ear. Something in Pony's tone is different. "Everything's all right?"

"_I'm fine... listen, can you, um, pick me up?_"

"Sure, yeah... of course, Pone..." Soda's already searching for the keys on the small table next to the phone, pushing bills and advertises aside, some of them falls to the floor, before he remember Darry has the truck. "Where are you?" He can't help but feel slightly worried, expecting anything but-

"_I'm in Tulsa, at the bus station. I caught an early bus._"

Soda's surprised by the answer, blinks. "You are?"

"_Yeah_," Pony breathes. "_Sorry for-_

" No, no... that's great, Pony!" Soda grins big. "I just need to get a car, but I'll be there soon, okay?"

"_Okay. Bye._"

Soda hurries to get dressed, then finds his way to Two-Bit's house.

XXX

Pony puts down the payphone and crosses the waiting hall to sit on a bench by one of the big windows facing the parking lot, relieved that Soda finally answered. After punching the number, he just couldn't let go, even if it felt hopeless when the signals just kept going. He hugs his backpack - since it's Friday, and raining, it's people everywhere, and he feels strange, like the room is much smaller than in reality, like the walls creeps closer by every minute. He shudders, wondering if something is wrong with him.

It takes more than half an hour before he sees Soda and Two-Bit make their way through the entrance, and he jumps up, would have run if it had been possible. They doesn't see him until he stands in front of them, and then Soda flings his arms around him, smiling.

"Ponyboy! So you could make it this weekend at least." He doesn't accuse him, but Pony thinks he hear something in his voice, so he stares at the floor for a moment, knowing he made his brother disappointed a week ago.

"Yeah," he says. "I wanted to come before, but..." He makes a vague gesture, hoping Soda will be satisfied with the answer, and he seems to be, because he shrugs, still the same happy face.

"It's okay, Pone, I understand."

"Hey, kiddo," Two-Bit says and give him a hug as well when Soda has let go of him.

They heads out to the parking lot, runs to the car to avoid getting soaked, but not until they close the doors Pony realizes Two-Bit's unnaturally silent. Pony glances at him, not knowing what to say, but Soda speaks for them all, babblering about the weekend and how much fun they will have. Two-Bit just drives, not faster than the speed-limit, eyes pasted on the road.

Pony can't stop thinking that his brother's cheerfulness is forced. It must be. He remembers Bob and Johnny and Dally, how they all died in front of him, affected him in different ways, and Soda... Soda have experienced more than that.

If Soda notice something about his brother and friend, how quiet they are, he doesn't say anything about it, and then Two-Bit pulls up in front of their house.

"Welcome home," Soda says to Pony.

Pony looks at the house as he climbs out- it feels like ages since he was here, but it's not even two weeks ago. His feet hits the pavement, and he slowly crosses the lawn to the porch.

"You comin'?" Soda asks when he closes his door, stepping up to the driver's side, but Two-Bit shakes his head, answers something Pony can't hear. Soda's expression gets solemn, and he leans forward, talking in a low voice through the open window, not caring about the rain this time.

"What was that?" Pony asks when Soda finally approach him after waving Two-Bit off, both of them watching as the car disappears down the street.

"Um," Soda says, not sure if it's his place to tell, but then he does anyway. Pony's eyes grow big.

"Two-Bit and Kathy?" he says, almost stunned. But he shouldn't be surprised, really. His friend has never been an angel. Pony remembers stories told by his older friends and brother, stories that made him blush at thirteen - still does at seventeen, he admits for himself.

Soda push the door open and Pony follows. He puts down his bag on the floor and sits down on the couch, suddenly feeling awkward, like a stranger. Like it's not his home anymore. Maybe it isn't. His things aren't here, most of them are in a city one hundred miles away. He bites his lip.

Soda comes back from the bathroom, throws a towel to him while drying his own hair with another, still grinning that big smile he's famous for.

"So, how's school?" he says and plops down next to Pony. He tugs his shirt off, shoes already gone.

"It's okay."

"Miss home?"

"Yeah..." _All the time. _He wish Soda hadn't brought that up, so he quickly change the subject. "Ain't you workin' today?"

He regret his words when Soda's face darkens some, and his brother turns slightly away from him. "They didn't need me anymore," he says. "You knew it was only temporary."

"Sorry."

"Aw, Pone, stop apologizing all the time!" Soda nudges him with his elbow, his usual mood back again. "C'mon, lets go and make somethin' to eat, I'm starvin'."

XXX

Darry comes home late. It's almost dark when he pulls up the truck on the driveway, seeing two boys on the porch. He grabs the grocery bag from the seat beside him and climbs out, happy the rain has finally stopped. "Pony?" he says when he gets closer and is able to recognize the boy.

"Hi, Dar." Pony waves with his cigarette.

"Didn't knew you were coming today." Darry suddenly frowns. "Something happened?" He shifts the groceries to the other arm.

"No. Can't I come home without you asking me that?" Pony says, suddenly annoyed. Soda snaps his head around, shoots him a glance.

"Of course." Darry's eyeing him too. "I'm just surprised you didn't called, is all," he says slowly.

"I don't have to call," Pony mutters. "It's my house too." He doesn't miss the sting in his heart, telling him that it's _not_. He was the one who chose to go away. His brothers shares a look, worried.

"Want some dinner?" Darry finally says, changing the subject. It's not the right time to talk when Pony gets defensive. Soda opens the door for him, and they all gather in the kitchen. Pony sits down at the table, watching as Darry puts the groceries away and Soda slams with the pans, knowing he must go back to Oklahoma city on Sunday evening, miss everything and everyone at home.

XXX

"Can I talk to you?"

Darry looks up. Pony stands in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against the frame. "What is it?"

Pony crosses the floor, sits down on Darry's bed with a heavy sigh, and Darry puts his book away. His kid brother looks awfully tired, he realize, and pale. Suddenly he doesn't like having him in a school that far away, where he can't keep a daily eye on him. But he knows he can do nothing about it.

"You think Soda's all right?" Pony says quietly. "Cause I was thinkin'..." he starts and hesitates. "With everything that's happened," he finally adds.

"You mean with the war?"

"Yeah. I mean, I remember Johnny, when he, ya know, killed Bob. I know it's different, but ..." he lets the words trail off, not sure what he wants to say. All he knows is that emotions fights in him, and he can't sort them out. He's happy and sad and scared at the same time, and it feels wrong. Soda's home, he should be able to let the past go, but he's not. He's not sure Soda has let it go.

"You think he thinks about it? What he did in the war? I mean, he must've seen stuff, and done stuff... he must feel bad, right?"

Darry has already considered that. Soda always _seems _happy, but Darry has had the thought of it all being an act since he got home. He doesn't want Pony to worry, though, so he smiles at him, trying to make it genuine.

"I guess he does, sometimes. But Soda can handle it, Ponyboy. Don't think about it."

"What does he say?" Pony wonders.

"Soda? He doesn't say anything."

"Then how do ya know?" Pony stares down. "He killed people. Kids maybe."

"Hey?" Darry leans forward, puts one hand on Pony's shoulder, forcing him to look up at him with the other. "He was forced to do that. You know he didn't want to go."

"I know that. It's not what I meant." Pony struggles with the words. He has always been comfortable with words, but it's one thing to write them, another to speak them, and with Darry it always has been the hardest to find the right ones.

"You think Soda would talk about it if... if he feels that he needs to?"

"I'm sure of it," Darry lies. Both his brothers are too good at clam up, hide their emotions until they almost breaks. Darry suddenly feels an urge to speak to Soda about this. He should have, a long time ago. He curse himself as he watch his youngest brother.

"I hope you're right," Pony says. "Thanks." He rise to go, but Darry grabs his wrist.

"Pony... are you feelin' great? You look-"

"I'm fine, Dar. It's just... much in school, ya know. Work and stuff." He gives his brother a reassuring smile. "I _am_ fine. Promise."

"Okay. Go to bed now, it's almost midnight."

"Sure," Pony says, thinking that Darry never will stop with his parental ways. "Night."

* * *

Thank you so much or reading and the nice reviews! I hope you still likes it!

Okay, to fix so there won't be any misunderstandings, I changed this sentences: _"I don't have to call," Pony mutters. "It's my house too." He doesn't miss the look his brothers share, doesn't miss the sting in his heart, telling him that it's not. He was the one who chose to go away._

To this:_ "I don't have to call," Pony mutters. "It's my house too." He doesn't miss the sting in his heart, telling him that it's __not_. He was the one who chose to go away. His brothers shares a look, worried.  


I hope it's obvious now that the "It's not my house-thing" is just Pony's thoughts. Thanks to FeistyFeist to enlighten me about this. Sometimes I get blind for my own work, even if I read through my chapters at least 10 times before posting.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Quiet Boy**

**7.**

The weekend went too fast, Pony thinks when his brothers drives him to the bus on Sunday evening after dinner. He doesn't want to go, but he didn't say anything before they left, just packed his bag with the few clothes he had taken with him, Soda quietly watching, and now it's too late. They're here, and Darry has already gone to buy him the ticket, while he and Soda stands outside the station, both ignoring the bus Pony soon will enter.

"So," Soda says, stuffing his hands in his pockets, balancing on his heels. "Did'ya have any fun?"

Pony knows what Soda wants to hear.

"Yeah." It's partly true - it was fun to hang out with the gang, and it could have felt like the old days, but he just couldn't stop observing Soda. Worst is, he thinks Darry did too, like he's worried even though he never said it, and Steve's mood changed every time some topic even touched the last year. Soda had a hard job to keep the spirits up, with no help from Two-Bit at all. Their daddy-to-be friend was lost in his own thoughts, only spoke when some of them adressed him, drank more beers than usual.

Pony sometimes thinks the world is spinning too fast - a speed that started when their parents got killed, and he can't keep up with everything that's going on. _Maybe this is growing up,_ he thinks, wondering if everyone else feels the same.

"Next time we can just hang around in the house," Soda says. His eyes are distant. "Doin' nothin'. Just take it easy, ya know."

_If that would help. _"I had fun," Pony says. "Really."

"You ain't smilin'." Soda raises his eyebrow.

"It's not that," Pony explains. "It's just hard to leave."

Soda wants to say that he doesn't have to, but he can't. According to Darry, Pony wants this. Soda's not sure, though. But he can't ask him, too afraid of being right, to know he has to send him back to a place he doesn't want to go to. But Pony has always dreamt of college, and Soda has a nagging feeling it's his fault if Pony doesn't enjoys.

Darry comes back, handles Pony the bus ticket, and there's no point in waiting anymore. When they hug, Pony tries to make it short. Just to get it over with.

"Call more often," Soda begs him, and Pony promises.

"You come home next weekend too?"

Pony nods. "I'll try." He gives them a last look and climbs the steps. The driver checks the ticket and Pony sits down on an empty seat by the window, and when the bus makes a turn out onto the street, he watch as his brothers stands by the truck. Soda turns his head and waves, Pony raises his hand too, even if he's sure Soda can't see it.

XXX

He sits at his usual place in the back, when someone drops their books on the bench next to him. The sudden sound makes him flinch.

"Hey," Lee says when he looks up to see who it is. He seems a bit nervous, and doesn't sit down, just drags a hand through his hair, searching for words. "Look," he finally continues. "I'm sorry, okay? Last week... I just thought you wanted it."

Pony turns forward again, pastes his gaze on the professor in the front. "Okay," he says shortly. Lee should know he didn't - he tried to say no.

"You're still mad," Lee states. He sighs and drags out the chair. "But ya know, I have bigger reasons to be mad at you than you have to be mad at me. And I don't mean about that girl." He takes a seat, tapping Pony's arm.

"What?" This time Pony looks at him again, slightly frowning.

"You just left," Lee explains. "I got worried. Thought you was lost or somethin'."

Pony snorts. He's not a kid. "I wasn't."

"Well, how could I know? You went out and you didn't come back. I was out lookin' for you and missed the end of the movie." He props his chin up on his hand, leaning on his elbow, watching Pony's reaction.

"Oh," Pony says, suddenly feeling embarassed. He should have learned by now that running away never is the answer. It just makes things worse.

"It's okay," Lee grins before he has the chance to reply anything else. "I forgive you. The movie was bad anyway."

Pony can't help smiling at that. "Yeah, it was," he agrees. Then he knows what he has to do. "I'm sorry too. I just... I've had so much goin' on in my life, I just don't want more people in it." He hopes that will explain it, he doesn't want to expose all his feelings.

"What do you mean, people? Don't ya want friends, a girl maybe..?" Lee sounds genuine interested, but Pony can tell he doesn't understand. But he can't really blame him, sometimes he doesn't understand himself either.

"No, I don't," he says. "And don't ask me about it," he adds a bit agressive, opening up his book, trying to end the conversation. But Lee is stubborn.

"Then what about me?"

Pony sighs. "I guess I'll just have to stand you?" He doesn't mean it as a joke, or maybe he does. Anyhow, Lee laughs out loud at it.

"You bet," he says, wide grinning, and then they have to be quiet when Mr. Harris starts the lecture.

Some minutes later Pony glance at Lee, discovers that he's actually glad they worked out the fight between them.

XXX

It's almost impossible to talk to Soda, Darry realizes. As soon as he mention anything about the war, Soda starts smiling, or bouncing around like always, acts like he was before the draft, telling Darry not to worry.

"Don't sweat it, Dar," he says on Wednesday night while doing the dishes. Darry just brought the topic up, again, this time succeeds in corner his brother in the kitchen, and where he stands in the doorway, Soda has no place to escape. "It was bad, I can't say anythin' else, but I'm home now. It's in the past." His voice is easy-going.

"Soda, don't bullshit me," Darry frowns. "You have to talk about it sometimes."

Soda leans his hip against the counter. "It's no big deal." He shrugs, grins, but Darry's sure it's just an act. He's too avoiding, too laid back about it, even for being Soda. Darry's more sure than ever that Soda needs to speak up.

"You told me once you nearly died."

"I did?" Soda turns around again, turning his back on Darry so he doesn't need to meet his gaze, staring down at the bubbly water instead. Then he remembers the mistake he did in the grocery store. But Darry should know anyway. No one goes to war and _not_ nearly dies. "Yeah... but I mean, it wasn't... I never got shot or anythin', it was just... it could've been close." He doesn't want this conversation. He wish he could tell Darry to knock it off, but that would only give him more reasons to push it.

"I just ask you to talk to me, buddy."

"It's nothin' to talk about, really." Soda puts a clean plate on the counter and starts cleaning the next.

"What about what _you_ had to do? You killed people." Darry knows it's harsh to mention it - maybe too harsh - but Pony's words are true. Soda did kill people. Enemies, but still. Soda stiffens at the words, stands still for a moment, then drops the plate, makes the water splash, turns around to face him.

"It was _self defense_, Darry. They shot at us. They killed _us_. I did what I had to do to come back." His eyes burns. "People does that, ya know. In war." This time his feelings shines through, and Darry leaves his spot in the doorway, walks to stand in front of him.

"Soda... it's okay. I know that. I don't blame you if that's what you think."

Soda seems to not listen. "I had no choise."

"I know."

His brother hung with his head by now. He raise his hands, hides his face in his palms, and stands there, not knowing if he should talk or not. But then, "I lost the count, Dar," he suddenly whispers. "I remember some of them, but... not all. It was so many."

"Soda..." Darry takes his hands, pulls them off from his face, sees the tears in his eyes. "Soda," he repeats, soothing. "It's like you said, you had to do it. You came home to Pony. And me. If we had lost you..."

"Dar," Soda says, solemn, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "That's what scares me."

"What do you mean?"

Soda stares at the floor. "What if I had died? More than once my friends over there got hurt or was killed right next to me. I saw some people die after just a couple a' days, ya know. But I was never even hit once, and I don't know why."

"You were lucky. _We_ were lucky," Darry says. "And don't you ever feel bad for what you was forced to do. You never enlisted." None of them never cared about the damn war. They knew it was ongoing, that young men was sent to it despite if they wished it or not, but it never was real to them, they had enough with their own struggles, until Soda hit his eighteenth birthday. That day it crept closer to them, and the day some months after, when Darry found the letter in the box, it was their reality too.

"But what if I had died?" Soda tries again. "What had you done?"

"You didn't."

"So we're just talkin' about my feelings and not yours?" Soda stares at him. "You had let Pony left, just like that?"

Darry frowns. "Is this about Pony now?"

"Obviously."

Darry shakes his head. "Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. You wanna talk about the war? What I felt? Fine, we'll talk about it." Soda takes a step backwards, puts a hand to Darry's stomach, staring him in his eyes.

"Here. I shot my first enemy right _here_. He looked like Pony's age, and I had nightmares for days after." He removes his hand, puts a finger to Darry's forhead. "Philip was my first friend over there. We met at boot camp. He got shot right here on our third week in 'nam. I saw it." The hand moves to Darry's shoulder. "Frank got shot here, and he made it at first. But then he got a fever. It was so hot over there... "

Soda continues pointing, talking in a dull voice, like he's back in the war, living his memories, and Darry wants to tell him to stop, but he can't, he asked for him to share. So they remains in the kitchen, one talking, one trying to understand, but he realize, he really can't understand it all. And he doesn't know how to make it good again. He can't erase memories.

XXX

Steve opens his front door, finding Two-Bit on the other side. The red-head rubs a sideburn, blinking with blood-stained eyes.

"Got time?"

Steve gestures with his head, letting him in.

"Be quiet," he warns him when they pass the living room. Steve's dad lies on the couch, snoring, the coffe table cluttered with beer bottles, most of them empty, but Two-Bit snatch a full one when they walk by. Steve says nothing. His dad always counts, and he will get in trouble for the missing one, he guess, but Two-Bit needs it. And Steve can take it. At least his dad never hits him, not bad anyway, and Soda's couch is always free. Maybe he will go there tonight anyway, not waiting for his dad to notice.

In his room, Steve sits down on the mattress on his floor, and Two-Bit sits down next to him, open up the bottle and gulps half of the liquid down in one sweep.

"About that baby-thing," he starts slowly, wiping his mouth, and Steve makes a face.

"Two-Bit, I ain't the right person for this talk. Go find someone else."

"Sure am," Two-Bit protests, showing a small glimpse of his old self. "Pony's too young, Soda have this, um, Sandy-thing in the past and Darry'll just get mad at me for not talkin' to Kathy yet. It's only you left, Stevie-boy." He points at him. Steve groans.

"Aw, fuck you," Steve says. "If I've to listen to this I need my fuckin' cigarettes." He rise and search, and finally finds the pack in his jacket hanging over the chair. He pulls it out, lights a stick, leaning back against the wall. His eyes are closed for a moment, but then he opens them, waves at Two-Bit. "Talk."

"So I was thinkin' that maybe this whole... baby-thing can be a good thing, right? Think of a... a little mini-Two-Bit runnin' around the town-"

"Two-Bit," Steve interrupts. "If you want me with ya on this train, don't add a fuckin' _mini_-you. I can only handle one of you."

Two-Bit looks shocked. "You don't mean that," he says.

"Sure do." Steve leans forward, takes the beer from him, drinks the rest and ash the cigarette in the empty bottle. Another drag, then, "So you mean you're fine with it?"

Two-Bit sighs. "Dunno. But what can I do?" He gives the bottle a sad look. "Guess it's time for me to grow up or somethin'..." He sounds so tired.

Steve doesn't say anything, there's nothing to say, so he just sits there, watching his friend.

"I ain't my fuckin' pa," Two-Bit suddenly says, sounding determined. "I won't just walk out on my kid." His gaze meets Steve's.

XXX

"I need you on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays." The man behind the desk looks up, handing him a paper.

And Pony thinks _no_. He can't.

But it's not like it's easy to find a part time job, most students in town look for one, and this is something he really can stand to do. If he's lucky, he'll be able to study on slow hours, and he may be able to get free movie tickets. And he needs it. The money is tighter than he thought it would be, and he needs new track shoes, a pair of jeans, food three times a day... suddenly he understands Darry and his struggles. So he says yes, he has to.

When he goes back to campus, he wonders what his brothers will say. Correction, what Soda will say. Darry, he thinks, will like it. He likes the tought of Pony studying and working, it's an evidence that Darry made a good job on raising him. But Soda-

He calls him. Explains, his voice a bit shaky. It's quiet in the other end, for a long time, and if he hadn't heard the radio in the background, he maybe had thought Soda had hung up on him.

"_All right_," Soda says, finally. "_Geez, Pony, I-_"

"I just need the money," Pony whispers. "I can't... I need it and this was all I could get."

"_Ponyboy-_"

"If I don't take the Saturdays too, they'll hire someone else."

"_Okay. Yeah. I s'pose it's... you gotta do what you gotta do._" Soda tries hard to not sound... Sad? Angry? He doesn't know.

"It's just until I find somethin' else," he tries, feeling miserable. "I'm still lookin'..."

"_I guess... I guess we can come down and visit you sometimes instead. If you can't make it home on the weekends."  
_

Pony leans his forhead against the wall, holding the receiver tight. "Yeah," he says. "That would be great."

* * *

I made a mistake with a sentence in the last chaper, so it said something else than what I wanted it to say- anyway, I have fixed it and wrote about the change in an A/N in the end of chapter 6. Thank you for reading and for the awesome reviews! You all lights up my life!


	8. Chapter 8

**The Quiet Boy **

**8.**

"What's wrong with you?" Julie says from above, sipping her Coke. She puffs at him with her foot, making him groan in his sleep. "Two-Bit?"

He shifts, waking up. He feels sore all over, stiff, like someone has driven him over with a car. Even the light behind his eyelids is hurting. He lifts a hand, feeling the stubble on his chin when he drags it over his face. For some reason, he thinks that he probably doesn't want to remember yesterday, and there's only one way to really not do that. "Gimme a beer," he mumbles. "'Cause I sure need one."

"No." Her voice is teasing.

He manage to open an eye, discovers that he, somehow, missed his bed last night and now lies on the hard floor beneath it, but fortunately still dressed and decent in front of his sister. Her word tries to make sense in his brain, but it fails. _No? _

"Why the hell not?" he exclaims. Julie looks disapproval.

"Mom says you shouldn't curse so much." She scowls, trying to look stern, but he can see right through her.

"I don't fuckin' care what Mom says, Julie. Why don't ya wanna gimme any?"

"Get one yourself" she says. "By the way, we don't have any," she informs, happier this time. Like she enjoys his misery.

"That," Two-Bit says, closing his eye again, "was really depressing to hear."

Julie giggles. "Anyway, I'm goin' to Diane. Tell that to Mom."

Eyes pops open again, this time both. "Why don't you tell her, missy?" he wonders, suspiciously.

"'Cause she ain't home yet, and if I don't ask she can't tell me not to." She seems proud of herself, puts down her empty Coke bottle next to him. "Bye, Keith!"

"Smart little one," Two-Bit says to himself. "Must've got it from me."

After the sound of the slamming front door has sounded off, he stays in his uncomfortable position for a while, before he slowly force himself to sit up, and unfortunately the memories of what happened last night rush over. He remember a bar, not _The Eastside Blast_, some further east, he thinks, and he remember a poker game and a broad - and this makes him groan even more. He really doesn't need more trouble.

And he needs to have a talk with Kathy. Soon. He'll do it soon.

XXX

It's not until the third week in school, and also the third history-lesson, that Ponyboy realize that one of Alex's friends, the black haired boy named Clyde, is in his class, and that Mrs. Mills just put them together for a group project. He slowly takes up his books and walks to him, stops in front of the desk. Clyde sits leaned back, a pencil stuck between his teeth. When he sees Pony approach, he takes it out, letting the chair's front legs bump into the floor again.

"So it's you and me, then," he says. "You, uh, wanna work here or go to the library, or..?"

"Library is fine," Pony says, and Clyde stands up, grabbing his bag. They walk in silence, and Pony's glad it's Clyde he will be working with and not Will, but that won't happen. They fortunately don't have any courses together.

The library lies in its own building on two floors, together with the Teachers' offices on the third and forth along with the principal, nurse and councelor, and even if it's a popular place for students, they find an empty table and sits down. At first it's kind of awkward, how they both read in their books and writes down notes but without working together, like they should. The project is about the World War II, and Pony tries to think about what he knows about it, what they could write about. But his mind seems blank, and he glances at Clyde at the same time the other boy looks up.

"I guess we need some more information," Clyde says. "I mean, we need more sources. Everyone could use books, we should try somethin' else."

Pony nods, agrees with him.

"It would be awesome if we could find someone who fought and survived the war," Clyde continues. "Made an interview or somethin'. Like talkin' to one of the soldiers that landed in Normandy."

"Yeah," Pony says, feeling slightly uncomfortable. But it's not because of Clyde, he realize. The guy seems nice enough, not sarcastic as Alex or mean like Will. What he hates is that it feels like wars is following him. He doesn't want to think about it. Maybe he should drop the History-class, choose something else instead. Biology. Science maybe.

"Hey?" Clyde waves in front of his face. "Wake up." He grins. "Alex told me you've trouble to sleep."

Pony blushes. "I wasn't sleeping," he says, hears how ridiculous it sounds. Clyde still grins when he turns his head down at his notes again. Pony sighs, closes his text book.

XXX

His time puts him at the seventh place out of twenty, not that bad, but when he drops to the grass, exhausted, he curse between his teeth. He knows he could do better before. Maybe he'll never beat the fastest, a college senior, but at least the two just before him in time, he could've taken. If he just can find his shape again. He guess this is the price he has to pay for not practicing the whole summer.

When he has catched his breath, he gets up and heads for the bleachers, sits down and tugs at his shoelaces. His shoes are really worned out - until next practice, he really need to get new ones. He got more than one glance at his feet during practice, and even if no one said anything, he still knows what they're thinking. He knows he's not the only poor student in college, but it's a fact that most of them are at least middle class. People with his social status rarely goes higher than High School. Maybe not even that, he thinks, thinking of Soda and Curly Shepard and most of the greasers he knows.

"Boys," the coach yells, and they all gather around him. Pony sighs and rise, joins the crowd. "Practice competition Saturday ten A.M. Be here at least an hour before." He checks the paper in his hand. "We're meeting students from a school in Texas. Don't disappoint me, and don't even think this is unimportant. Got it?"

The runners mumbles their promises, then shatters up, heading at different directions.

"You're fast." Lee stands just outside the track field, a bag slunged over one shoulder. Pony grunts.

"I've been faster." He needs a shower, but he hates those in the locker room. He starts walking fast towards his dorm instead. Lee follows, taking long steps to be able to catch up.

"I though you should start your work on Saturday," he says. "Do you have time to compete?"

"The job's not until four," Pony answers with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Lee says. "I know you miss your family."

"It's okay," Pony lies, thinking he can tell Soda about the track meet too. If he has two reasons not to come home, maybe he'll be more understanding. _God_, he wish he was back in Tulsa.

XXX

The door to the garage stands open in the still warm autumn weather. It's september now, but the degrees shows summer. Steve wipes his forhead with an arm, leans down over the engine of his boss' car. He has a lot of work to do, probably have to do overtime, but of course he needs to take this first, he thinks sourly. He could have stand it if Soda had been here, lighting up his mood, but he's not.

"Steve." He looks up. A familiar figure stands in the doorway.

"Jeffrey. What's up?" He decides to take a long needed break, closing the hood. _Screw this!_ He walks up to shake hands with the other greaser.

"I need you to look at my car," Jeffrey says. "Can't pay you, though."

Steve frowns, and Jeffrey quickly adds, holding up both hands in a calm down gesture. "Hey, I ain't asking you to do somethin', just a quick look, okay? Like, uh, a second opinion or whatever."

"Yeah, _whatever_," Steve mutters. He follows him out to his parked red Chevy anyway, knowing how many times Tim's gang has assist them without questions when necessary, but almost stops when he sees the passenger. "Is that Jimmy?" he asks.

The window is open, and the older greaser's hand hangs outside, a cigarette clamped between his fingers.

"Finally got'em out of the fuckin' house," Jeffrey says in a low voice. "He's moping, don't want to talk to anyone. Don't care 'bout him."

"Hm," Steve says, looking down. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jumpsuit. "So I heard about his leg." He glance up, discovers that Jeffrey stares straight forward, seeming to look at nothing at all.

"Yeah," he says. "It got infected or somethin', so they had to take it off beneath his knee." He tells it without emotions, like he's talking about a thing, and then he shakes his head like he's waking up, changes the subject, open up the hood of his car. "So here's the trouble..."

All the time they discuss the possible damage to the car, Jimmy sits quiet, staring out of the windscreen. Not until Jeffrey closes the hood with a loud bang and goes off to buy cigarettes in the shop, he shows that he has noticed Steve. He leans out of through the open window.

"Hey?" he says, and Steve walks up. "I heard Soda's back," Jimmy continues, and Steve nods. "So...uh, he's okay?" Jimmy's voice is a bit strained.

"He's fine." Steve doesn't know if he should mention anything about Jimmy's wound, but he does by himself.

"I know you fuckin' know, Steve. It's like all over the town." Jimmy laughs bitterly. "Could be worse, right? Everyone tells me that."

"Yeah, I-"

"And don't you fuck mention Alan. I'm so _sick of it_."

"Wasn't goin' to."

"You made him talk!" Steve turns around, finding Jeffrey smirking. "Bring Soda someday and head over to our house, all right?" he continues while open his door.

"Sure." Steve takes a step away from the car, and Jimmy meets his gaze briefly. It's something recognizable in the look, but not until they have drove off and the car's not in sight anymore, Steve realize it reminds him of Soda's.

XXX

He could find her house blindfolded, but somehow his feet won't take him there. He barges into a little corner shop, stares at the six-packs on the shelves, but decides for nothing, and by then he has been kicked out anyway. They know him too well. A normal day he had been laughing at this, but somehow it's hard to really smile these days.

But the thought that finally gets him to her doorstep is the thought of Julie and how young she was when their dad walked out on them to never get in touch again, and for some reason Soda and the war, and how fragile things really are. He maybe isn't ready, but would he ever be? And he can't leave her alone with this. He's a better person than that, he hopes. At least he will try to be.

She doesn't open the door until the third knock, when he's almost on his way to leave again. Startled he turns around at the sound.

"Two-Bit," she says, hugging a blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Hey," he responds, not sure how to do this. "I... um..." He meets her eyes. "Kathy, I'm sorry," he adds.

"Me too." Her voice is thin. He feels a sudden urge to hug her, but he doesn't. It seems that he can't move, and he doesn't know how to continue. It's silent so long that she almost starts shutting the door again. She knows she could. She inspects him, wishing things had been different. If he hadn't walked away. If he had been there all the time for her, she knows she still had loved his face and his jokes. Then she had gone through this without too much bitterness. They had been able to move on together. But she knows she's alone in this.

"You want something?" she finally says. "'Cause-"

"Yeah. Yeah I do." He scratch the back of his neck. "I ain't goin' nowhere, Kathy. I mean, I'll stay. Okay. You an' the baby and me, we could be like.. uh, a family, all right? If-"

"I ain't pregnant," she suddenly interrupts.

He blinks. Is this some kind of joke? Not sure how to react, he eyes her, trying to take the words in. Trying to realize what he should feel.

"You're not?" Suddenly he wants to _thank_ someone, not sure who. It was just a mistake, all the time. He takes a deep breath, sighs and starts to grin, so relieved. No baby. "Gosh, Kathy, ya really scared m-"

"I ain't anymore." She stares at him, like she's challenging him. He stops short.

"What?"

"I ain't pregnant anymore, Two-Bit. I lost it."

This time it's his turn to stare , and now he sees the redness in her eyes, her pale face, how she hunch in the doorway. So unlike Kathy. He doesn't knows what to say. He knows he has screwed up, badly, worse than he thought he had. He though he could come here, making it good again. But she won't forgive him, and when he finally realize he has lost her, he wants to kick something. His fists clenches without his will.

"You weren't _here_, Two-Bit," she says, sounding so sad, and then she closes the door again, leaving him stunned.

XXX

"Dar?" The door slams behind him, but the house is empty. First he's confused, the truck stands in the driveway, but then he finds his brother at the back yard. He holds a football in his hands, back turned to the house. "Dar?" Soda repeats, and Darry jerks around.

"Soda! Didn't heard you." He looks down on the ball, sheepishly, and drops it down to the grass. Soda opens up the back door a little bit more.

"I got it."

"Got what?"

"The job at the Dairy Queen. I'll start tomorrow."

Darry smiles. "That's great, Soda."

"Yeah," Soda says. "It is. It's money." He bites his lip.

"It's great," Darry repeats, sounding almost too happy. Soda's aware of that he's just trying to be there, cheer him up or something. But something in Darry's body language tells him it's his brother who needs it. For some reason, they always forgets him. Forgets that he has feelings too, that he maybe isn't strong all the time, even if he pretends to be.

So Soda eyes the ball in the grass, then looks up, grinning. "Hey, Dar?... wanna play?"


End file.
